


It must be Wednesday...

by tahirire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, One Shot, pwt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-30
Updated: 2008-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A PWT/SPN crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It must be Wednesday...

So the first time it happens Dean just thinks he ate something weird. To be honest, he eats weird crap all the time, and even though he _never_ works out, (outside the job) and he always looks (damn) good, the food he lives off of wouldn”t keep a dog alive for very long according to those fine folks that make the food pyramid.

So yeah, maybe that”s why. It”s totally normal to have strange dreams after you eat weird stuff, right? So he”s never actually read Harry Potter (or seen the movies) but he has seen an episode or two of Scooby Doo in his time, and what with their screwed up lives, dreaming about hunting a ghost that turns out to just be Harry Potter actually makes perfect sense. Actually, Sam had a weird dream, too, and after insisting that it was ok, it was _not_ a vision (there was _no way_ Sam would ever wear pink underwear, no matter _how_ big of a girl he is) they both agreed to maybe eat some salad every once in a while from now on.

~*~

For a while things were ok, at least as ok as they get when you are a professional evil hunter who never gets paid, and they were on the road again, making for the next town when Dean suddenly couldn”t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He checks his watch, sees it”s getting late and decides they may as well reign it in for the night; they are in between hunts, anyway. Sam looks worried (like he always does) when Dean bypasses the gas station and stops at a bar instead. “Dean, everything ok?”

Since there is no way Dean is (ever) going to tell his brother that he is unnerved for no apparent reason (he doesn”t get unnerved, anyway, that”s _Sam”s_ thing) he just nods. “Yeah, fine. Hey, it”s almost 10, we need some cash - and I think I could use a beer, whaddya say?” Sam just raises his eyebrows like he does, gives that little huff of his, rolls his eyes (seriously, how many ways can one guy make a bitchface?) and shrugs _yeah, fine, whatever_.

Less than an hour later though, Dean is peeling out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, wondering how Sam got that drunk on _ONE_ beer, and seriously considering using bleach to wipe his little bro”s rendition of “My Heart Will Go On” out of his brain. Sam is practically passed out in the passenger seat, and for all his horrified disbelief, Dean can”t help but snap a quick shot with his cell of that goofy face, and it takes everything he has not to run the Impala off the road when Sam whispers fervently, “I love you, Canada ... I love your beer!”

~*~

A few weeks go by without much mention of the beer incident (except every single time Dean checks his cell for the time, or makes a call, or .... well, or when he just wants too) and Sam doesn”t remember it very well (except Dean keeps telling him about it) so Dean just lets it go. (Snerk.) But when Dean wakes up on Thursday morning with a decidedly new addition to his upper right bicep, he decides that this is just _over the line_. “Sam!” he growls, throwing his pillow forcefully at his sleeping brother”s form, “what the _hell_ , Sam?”

Sam just sits up and blinks sleepily, frowning in confusion through bleary eyes as he tries to process what just attacked him. “S”matter Dean? We needa go?” Freaking jerk _yawns_ , like he hasn”t been planning this all week. Dean decides _oh no, no_ way _are puppy eyes gonna get you out of this one_.

“I know you like to try to play the prank war, Sam, but COMEON!” He holds his arm out for Sam to see. Sam blinks once, twice. Realization dawns on his face like the sun rising through the motel room window, and he lets out a really loud laugh before he realizes that that”s maybe not the best idea right now. Dean”s eyes get dangerous. “Are you laughing?” Sam shakes his head frantically _no,_ but it kind of looks like he”s having trouble breathing. Its so good to see him actually smile for once that Dean feels his firey temper cool a notch. He shakes his head. “Lame, Sam, lame. Writing your name on my arm? Let me tell you right now, if we”re gay, I”M the butch one. You”re the giant girl.” He heads over to the sink. “Besides,” he calls back, “this will wash right off, you dork. You better be glad it”s just sharpie.” Dean doesn”t register that Sam has stopped laughing mid gulp for air and jumped up to check the front door locks. What he _does_ register is that the tattoo _isn”t_ coming off. ( _what the..._ ) “What the hell did you use, you prick!”

~*~

Ok, so it”s been a few weeks since Dean woke up with the word “Sam” tattooed across his arm in giant, girly handwriting, and it won”t come off, no matter what, and he actually kind of believes Sam that he didn”t do it. (stupid puppy eyes) He always wears three layers of clothes anyway, and he doesn”t miss the chance to let Sam know that “Sam” could be his hot x-girlfriend”s name, for all chicks know, and so this time - and this time only, he isn”t going to kick his brother”s ass for this.

At least now they both agree that something weird is going on. Sam figures that the weirdness centers mostly around Wednesday nights, and Dean has to agree, even though that makes no sense to either of them. Sam gets to research right away. Dean gets to being pissed off. Which is not so out of the neighborhood for Dean, so whatever, but he has strange dreams all the time (about carebears and mountain men), woke up one morning speaking in (limericks) gibberish, and is having to deal with Sam”s constantly increasing rate of Emo Angst, (not to mention a highly elevated hug fetish) and he figures he”s allowed to be pissed at this point.

After a whole lot of crap going on, when the Impala turned into a woman, Dean shouldn”t have been surprised. He was though. She was gorgeous. And classy, (not like his usual, but like for real, even Sam thought so) and he figured, what the hell, who knows if this”d ever happen again, and he (banged) slept with her, and actually it was as close as Dean had ever felt to true love. Of course, when she turned back, Sam wouldn”t ride in the car with him for a full week, and they spent a hell of alot of extra money on gas.

~*~

Finally, after way too many life interruptions, Dean hears the noise he”s been waiting for. He doesn”t even have to look up to know what look Sam”s got on his face (bitchface), that incredulous _what the hell_ mixed with _holy crap we”re dumb_ look he makes when he figures out a case. He looks anyway, and there it is. He doesn”t ask (he already knows), he just raises his eyebrows in question. “Voodoo,” Sam spits out. “Freakin” _Voodoo_ , Dean. With _DOLLS_.”

“Who”d we piss off?” Dean asks him. Sam just shrugged in response. He shakes his head. “Man, dolls freak me out, you know that.” No matter. They would figure it out. Now that they knew the cause of all the weird, Dean wasn”t worried anymore. At least these witches, whoever they were, didn”t seem to want to hurt them. In fact, certain memories made him smile. _At least I got to spend some quality time with my Baby._ And there was always his picture of Sam doing his Celine Dion impersonation.And actually, getting a hug from Sam wasn”t so bad once you got used to it (ginormotron freak), but he”d still be glad once all of this was over. And then there was always his more permanent problem ...

“Tell you one thing, Sammy - when we find the bitches that did this, if they can”t fix my arm, I”m gonna kill them.” He tried to look mad, but Sam”s pure laughter was (freaking awesome) infectious.

Yeah, Dean Winchester had seen some weird things happen because of this (curse) thing, but Sammy laughing? That was probably the (best) weirdest one of them all.


End file.
